Writing this book is my “one more”.
Here’s what’s going on in my mind right now.
I want to write a book that doesn’t intentionally set out to inspire anyone. One that simply just tells the truth. Truths, undisguised as fiction… Out of norm thoughts unbothered by the creative struggle for balance between self preservation & self disclosure.
I don’t know,
but I feel like every “intervention”gives you a foretaste of freedom but still silently dictates, TO. WHAT. EXTENT…It’s like it inspires you to go within, to find yourself, to accept and fall in love with the “possibility” of freedom & absolute control over your life but not enough to EXERCISE it… Such fuckery fam, such fuckery!!!!!!
We get it…
Now, please have a seat like the rest of us stuck in a generation of clusters, of confusion, of the fear of exclusion & fear of independent thinking…where “Different” is really ONLY applauded for its ability to adjust, to blend-in, or simply exist without threatening or challenging the curse disguised as a regimented society, patterns, age long ideas and ideologies & similar bullshits you know…
It bothers me.
I look at Kanye West & his commitment to salvaging Art. Not necessarily by doing anything otherworldly or extremely “exceptional”… But by SPEAKING UP…. Saying what NEEDS to be said especially when it has to be said & it inspires tf out of me. 🙈
What stifles our freedom is our loyalty to people, to things, to positions, to honoring the powers that be. How readily we advocate for change yet sacrifice our most powerful tool, our voice… For positions, or for acceptance or just to be artistically complaint… “Let me do it like the rest before they say I’m doing too much or I feel like I know too much”.
I believe quality Art intimidates those who feel the need to compete, because the source of all creativity is from the author of perfection the one who spoke all that is, into being…so, it, just, motherfucking, has, to, STAND, out, the false humility/modesty and need for acceptance makes us shy away from taking credit for our hard ass efforts. Are you working this hard, utilizing the pain to not take credit for it sir?
The quality of Art is watered down by the things we love but can’t be openly associated with; the things we hate but can’t criticize, the politics of others and of ourselves, the fear of coming off as insane, our out of pocket conversations, our dark twisted addictions, the “too sensitive” parts we exclude from the narrative, our rebellion against winding up as mere statistics that can be culled up, predicted & controlled, the bastards that tell us that some of our dreams are unrealistic & those who will forever hang our past over our heads & see no good in us.. These are all the things that must inspire the process.
All of this is ART.
Overtime, I’ve come to realize that happiness doesn’t inspire creativity. It keeps me satisfied with the present, but it has never helped me create anything meaningful…. but Pain, ANGER, DEPRESSION, FAILURE, REJECTION….you know, just allowing myself be with these emotions without condition, constantly challenges me to wake up the beast in me , the Vyne who wouldn’t accept anything thing less than success, the Vyne who would much rather create a whole new lane than conform. (These are emotions we hate to be associated with because we feel like we constantly need to have our shit together all the time)
But I believe ART, the best kind, starts the very moment you fall apart. Maybe that’s why the universe constantly spins a decent amount of chaos to remind us of our duty ….To create… Not just any rushed up piece… Art.. that generations to come would still find relevant.
But the gag still is, there are no accidents. Every splurge of paint, every punctuation, every crazy idea was strategically positioned by God in us so we could excel but the limitations we hang over our own heads both real and created simply sets us up for failure. It fucks with the quality of Art, the Alpha circle, the rhythm, the originality. Our legacy.
You see writers hide behind fiction (Vyne being the ring leader because while I covet this insane level of freedom, I am also constantly depriving myself of it by factoring the feelings of those closely associated with me. That isn’t freedom.), I see Artists cave & surender to the pressure to go “commercial” to earn a fucking living, the mediocre/ repulsive shit in circulation, Art isn’t Art anymore.
We have collectively contributed to what it has now become… We are all so shortsighted that we SETTLE to create to be applauded by people who will pay ridiculous amounts to see beauty in themselves.. People who don’t know how to honor themselves.
It. bothers. me.
I create to declutter, I try not to care how it comes across…
I say it how I feel it…
I offend some,
But I must always say it & be done with it.
I create to shut out the pressures of a regimented society, to leave a piece of me behind, to look back understand & evaluate my state of mind at every given stage… To give back, to save a life, to curb my excesses.
The reality still is…
You shoot the messenger because you expect that he must be whole, flawless.
…that he must come correct by the flawed standards of morality,
…that he must look or sound a certain way….
but my goal, as I take some time off to write is…
…to quiet down the noise created by the need to constantly PROTECT THE IMAGE WE HAVE CREATED FOR SURVIVAL and have more people shed this very image and embrace freedom & kinda look within to see where we all got it wrong. This time, not point fingers at anyone else but to instill in every mind the love for self, the value of Art, the power we all carry.
I struggle everyday.
Some times it’s as simple as being reprimanded for saying”fuck you” because that’s one way I genuinely express my disgust in so few words (such beauty), but lord I’m constantly criticized for it? 🙆🏾But then it’s a collective revolution when Beyonce’s “Sorry” comes on? (which I love & still advantage of anyway🐝)
… But it’s so funny how we live, breathe, inhale and exhale an amusing level of irony; where people kill to save lives, where everyone in their quest for freedom still tries to gain some measure of control over others.
I had expectations that never really allowed me to do much.
My inability to find balance between my ego & all my insecurities…
“If it had to have my name affiliated with it, it had to fucking stand out”…
Which was a pretty good incentive to always bring my “A—game” but also where I missed it. People will do literally ANYTHING to stand out… That wasn’t me. That was who was gradually becoming…
I value honesty,
So manipulating my way or taking the shorter, easier route eventually made me feel drained. Yes it works for some to manipulate the truth to make it marketable or more interesting…. But that wasn’t me. I wanted to write a true story even if it had ruff cuts and boring parts…
I’ve very recently moved from that to my new mantra… A more realistic one too…
“if it had to have my name on it, i had to be able to be depended upon for the whole truth.”
I want to write about
the difinitive creative experience,
about how I spend 3.am’s,
about high school, about Sanchè
About that one friend who fucked someone I liked..
About shaving off my brows at 6 😩😂,
about my addictions, about chaos, about peace,
about the things I just excluded,
about my report card from primary 5 that read, “your non-chalant attitude has affected your result”,
about growing up, about how I would wet the bed and roll my sister into the mess…😩🙈,
about my fears,
about being a great friend,
an occasional hypocrite,
about my strong opinions,
about being FREE…
Which I think is the biggest struggle yet…. The freedom to lead people into themselves by being an example, by being 110% who you say you are.
I wanted to be honest even in uncomfortable situations like admiting that while I wouldn’t compromise the quality of my narrative for any amount of money, that I was also writing to get paid. DUH! I don’t know how this even goes over our heads…but the idea that a book was written solely because an author genuinely loves you and is writing this exclusively so your life can be better makes me want to fold into three… Or that a Saint Laurent piece that originally cost $1220 now goes for $1120 because “we love our customers”… Eh. Darling, you do realize that you didn’t SAVE $100, $1120 just hoed out of your pockets?
Just like marketing, they play with the idea of “free stuff”, people’s love for “discounts”, “the easy way”…. you distort the truth because your goal is to reinvent what is originally ours, and sell it right back to us as “luxury”….
Same goes for ART.
You tell people Art should make them feel something,
that it will awaken something in them,
that Art has this near instant healing,
that Art would help them find themselves.
They spend so much searching for themselves in other people’s work,
they spend years recycling same ideas,
is that THEY are the ARTIST…
…..That they are as POWERFUL as any invention that belittles one’s ability to think, create, advance…
…..That who they are and all they can become is entirely up to them,
…….That they must heal themselves through self acceptance and grow into and out of themselves repeatedly, and must take pride in their ability to provide an escape for those who can’t ….
There are no new experiences, no new inventions, no original works…. Since all of Art is drawn from life itself which isn’t ours to begin with. What makes it ORIGINAL & universally relatable is how no two persons experience life the same way.
The cracks in the interaction between the creative mind & his Art, is the fact that we are constantly limiting our experiences by standing still, by hiding away from others and from ourselves, from what we’ve done & what we can become instead of speaking up & telling our own stories, the unfiltered and unpretentious side.
This is our legacy bruh.
We have different lives to lead.
Some are blessed with the means, some with the negativity that still eventually inspires us, others simply with the creativity to spark some kind of change…
One where the selflessness to leave this world a lot better than we met it, overshadows our unintentional abuse of its beauty.
I don’t know bruhhh,
I just had to vent.